“Ripper and I are having a minor disagreement about paint,” Anya announced as she jumped into the passenger seat, tucking a bulging plastic bag between her feet.

“He wants to keep the inside gray?” Jonathan asked.

“Only because it conceals his disgusting cigarette smoke staining the walls. Filthy warlock,” Anya said. “But we’d be getting a lot more foot traffic if the interior was something you could see from the street. Imagine walking past and seeing a glimpse of perfect sky blue through the windows. Where else are you going to see sky blue in Demondale?”

“Glory’s temple?” Jonathan guessed.

Anya scoffed, finally remembering to pull on her seat belt. “Then you’d have to deal with Glory,” she said. With a jolt, she tapped the dashboard clock. “Let’s go! We’re going to be late.”

Jonathan hid a smile as he put the van into gear. They had this same conversation whenever they carpooled together. Anya had yet to fully wrap her mind around how long it took to drive somewhere. Demondale was only ten square miles. Driving might not have been as instant as taking a magic portal, but it was certainly faster than walking or riding a horse.

“If we were late,” Jonathan said as the Magic Shop shrank in the rearview mirror, “couldn’t I just wish that we weren’t?”

Anya fiddled with the radio dial, scanning past the news, the Spanish language channel, and the hits of the seventies, eighties, and today for the grainy classical station. She was old-fashioned that way. “You could. But then I could send you to a Wishverse where it’s always a quarter to six.”

“Who would pick you up from work?” Jonathan asked over the screech of violins. “Does your boyfriend have a car?”

“Ugh, no.” She fell back against the seat with a groan. “Vampires love walking everywhere. For people without heartbeats, they certainly get their cardio in.”

Jonathan was pretty sure that neither Anya nor Angelus knew how to drive, but he didn’t mention it. He didn’t really want to share the road with a thousand-year-old chaotic-neutral demon or her vainglorious lover. Immortals had less to be scared of behind the wheel. It had taken almost an entire month for Jonathan to convince Anya to wear a seat belt. She’d only given in when he’d explained how expensive it would be to have to replace the windshield if she flew through it.

Less than ten minutes later, the van cruised to a stop in the Bronze’s parking lot. The barnyard stink of hay and excrement hung in the air like a fog. Despite Angelus’s best efforts to block the sale, one of the cowboy vampires had purchased the warehouse next to the Bronze. Gorch Family Farms housed what was left of the hellish livestock that had been unleashed during the slayer’s last stand. Its walls trembled with the shrieks and squeals of the infernal beasts.